Time was the most ruthless of all things.
Before anyone realized it, the Star Calendar had already reached the year 6700.
For long-life species, several centuries could pass like a single journey. Yet for Jingliu, those years had stretched into an endless pilgrimage of suffering with no destination in sight.
Wars ignited, burned out, and reignited. Her path and Kanzaki's orbited the same star yet never intersected. That deliberate distance had worn away at her mind day after day, like a blade slowly dulling against stone.
At some point, she began to change.
Whenever she returned to the Xianzhou for rotation and rest, the moment she stepped into the home that still carried her Master's presence, a quiet, aching hunger would rise in her chest. While Kanzaki remained in the study handling military affairs, she would find herself walking into the bathroom as if drawn by something beyond her control. She would pick up the towel he had just used, still warm and damp, and press her face into it, breathing in the faint scent of shower gel and his skin until it felt like it had sunk into her lungs.
During meals, her eyes would linger on the cup he had drunk from. When she carried the dishes to the kitchen, she would hesitate, then carefully lift the cup and touch her lips to the rim where his mouth had been. In that small, stolen moment, the constant dryness in her chest seemed to ease, if only for a breath.
When Kanzaki was away on campaign, she would hold one of his garments close at night, burying her face in the fabric that still carried his scent.
"Master… Master…"
She would whisper into the darkness, rubbing her cheek against the cloth, eyes unfocused. Only wrapped in that lingering trace could her heart, long numbed by endless slaughter, find even an illusion of warmth.
"I'm sorry… Master…"
She knew this behavior was wrong. She knew it was unhealthy. But she felt like someone dying of thirst in the desert. If she could not occasionally draw some small comfort from the things that belonged to him, she feared she would truly lose her mind.
Just like that, another hundred years slipped by.
The long war against the Denizens of Abundance had finally eased. Whether from exhaustion or fear, the frequency of major battles had dropped to its lowest point in centuries. Kanzaki and Jingliu now had more overlapping time together. They still did not fight side by side, but at least their rest periods sometimes aligned.
They could sit in the courtyard and drink tea like ordinary people. They could walk outside together on quiet days. The Cloud Knights were granted extended leave after major campaigns precisely so they could return to normal life and reduce the risk of becoming mara-struck. Research had shown it helped delay the onset of the condition.
For Jingliu, however, the peace and stability of ordinary life meant nothing without him.
Only her Master could give her what she needed.
She began to grow dissatisfied with the comfort she could steal from objects. She wanted the person himself.
When she handed him tea, her fingertips would brush against his hand. When they walked together, her shoulder would graze his arm. Every accidental touch sent a sharp current through her body. She would tremble inwardly, secretly craving more, while Kanzaki's reaction remained as calm and distant as ever. He would simply take a small step back when the distance closed too much.
It was an autumn afternoon. Sunlight fell gently across the lakeside. Willow branches swayed in the breeze, and the water sparkled under the light. Couples strolled along the paths, their quiet intimacy visible on every side.
Something that had been building inside Jingliu for centuries finally broke through.
She no longer wanted to endure it.
Even if it was only once. Even if it lasted only a moment.
She gathered her courage, stepped forward, and slipped her arm through Kanzaki's, holding on tightly. The warmth of his body passed through the fabric and into her skin. Real. Alive. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. A small, satisfied smile had just begun to form on her lips when the arm she held suddenly pulled away.
Kanzaki withdrew his arm in one swift, deliberate motion.
"What are you doing?"
He stopped walking and turned to face her, brows slightly furrowed.
Jingliu stood frozen, arms still half-raised as if holding onto nothing but air. The rejection hit her like a sudden drop into cold water. Hundreds of years of effort, of fighting to grow stronger, of desperately trying to close even the smallest gap between them… and this was still the result?
"Master…"
Her voice trembled. Her eyes, usually cold as ice, were now bloodshot and glistening.
She stepped forward and seized his hand with both of hers, gripping it with all the strength she had left.
"Why?"
She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill.
"Why have you never spared me even a single glance? You could dance with Senior Hanya, yet you pull away the moment I try to touch you. What did this disciple do wrong to make you hate me so much?"
Kanzaki let her hold his hand. He could feel how violently it was shaking. The girl who had once followed him had grown into a woman of striking grace and presence. Through her tear-filled eyes, he saw something dangerous and uncontrolled beginning to take root.
This could not continue.
He remained silent for a long moment. Then, with a calmness that felt almost cruel, he spoke two simple words.
"Let go."
The light in Jingliu's eyes dimmed instantly. Her grip loosened, fingers sliding away from his palm as if all strength had left them. The last trace of warmth disappeared with her touch.
Sure enough… no matter what she did, no matter how much she begged, she could never earn even the smallest kindness from him.
"You have done nothing wrong," Kanzaki said quietly. "And I have never disliked you. It is simply that this behavior is inappropriate."
Jingliu slowly lowered her head. Her hair fell forward, hiding her expression.
"…Inappropriate in what way?"
"You are no longer a child. There must be a proper distance between a master and his disciple. Excessive closeness… crosses certain lines."
Kanzaki's tone was steady, but even as the words left his mouth, he felt an odd discomfort. The excuse felt borrowed, as if it did not quite belong to him. The Xianzhou was not some rigid, old-fashioned society. Why had those particular words come so easily?
He did not notice the silent tears that slipped down Jingliu's face and fell soundlessly to the ground.
"…I understand, Master."